Aonori
by Ellsbeta
Summary: A melding of The Little Mermaid and Rapunzel
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: This started as an observation of the noise wind makes around my window, which morphed into a rapunzel oneshot, which couldn't quite separate itself from the little mermaid, which is growing out of a oneshot and into a story all it's own. I'm finally pinning down some idea of where it's going and decided now would be a good time to put it up and see how it's received while I contemplate what happens next. If you like it please review! _

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They say you can hear the ocean in a conch shell. A small peach colored one dangles from my neck on an unremovable silver chain. Though I've strained my ear to listen, only hollow echoes reach my ear. But sometimes, when the gusty air whooshes around my window, it also makes a high whistling sound and I am reminded of the call of seagulls against the crashing waves. 

Once in a while, when the air is still and silent, and the emptiness presses in too tightly, I sing. I sing the song of the ocean, and I remember. Nights of singing pass through my memory. Nights of begging to go with my sisters, but never being old enough. Nights of longing for just one glimpse of the world my sisters sang to. Nights of feeling trapped in singing for my father, while another song filled my soul.

The song of the ocean dies on my lips.

But the wind slowly returns. It never stays away for long. High up in this tower it seems the air has nothing better to do but swirl around my solitary window. When I look out, the breeze twirls in and out of my hair and I wonder if it mimics the pull of the ocean waves. Though I strain my eyes, I cannot see the ocean. And yet I have seen other towers. Before I came to be here, I saw towers within sight and sound and smell of the salty ocean waves. Towers with bright lights shining into the distance, even on the darkest night. Towers with the one thing I envy most, a staircase. Great winding staircases for climbing in and out. When she offered me a tower, in exchange for my pitiful gift of aonori seaweed, these were the towers I dreamed of. I knew not what I bargained for.

It is dark. The stars are not out tonight. I both need and dread these lightless nights. She comes.

"Aonori," she calls, mocking my gift with her name for me, "Aonori, let down your hair." For one solid moment I consider refusing. But my dwindling supply of food and freshwater leads me to wrap my long locks around the brace and throw the braid she taught me to weave out the window.

It is only when she visits that the guilt floods my heart. In solitude I can fancy myself the victim. The pitiful recipient of cruelty caught in a grand and evil scheme of which I am unaware. But when she comes and I converse with the dreaded witch queen of the seven seas as though we were _friends_ I shudder with remorse. It is our lack of options in companionship, I try to console myself. But in bitterness I remember it is she who locked me in my solitude. As I listen to her prattle on of the weeds in her ocean herb-bed I cannot help but wonder why she bothered imprisoning me at all. Soon my mind is contorted with confusion from too many contradictions I cannot sort out, and I breathe a sigh of relief when at last she climbs down my braid, leaving me in solitude once again. In the quiet I find consistency.

There are trees below my window. Thick trees blocking the ground from sight. On really windy days they sway in the breeze. The leafy tops dip and push against each other, while never breaking their leafy barrier to the ground. I watch from above and wonder if this is how the ocean looks to those who have never swam in it. I have never walked in the forest. The forest is closer than the ocean now, yet still haunts me in its mystery. I feel the song stir that has ever been in my heart, but still I cannot find it. I sing another ocean song, but this time I form it to my will. Though I carry an ocean tune, I sing of the trees below my window. But rather than soar as I hoped it would, the place in my heart feels tighter than ever. Somehow I know there are forest songs, and this is far from one of them. Bitter tears flow down my cheeks and for two days I stubbornly refuse to sing at all.

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Eager for more? Ideas on where it's going? Thoughts on how well the two fairy tales are melding together? Let me know!! 


	2. Chapter 2

Sorry for the long delay, but at last here is chapter 2! Hopefully I will get to chapter 3 a little more quickly.

Thanks to piratesswriter for pointing out a few grammatical errors!

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My father once told me I had the most haunting voice in the ocean. He would look at me with his proud, dark eyes and bid me to sing. I would sigh and search for the song that would satisfy me. Though I sang every ocean song I knew, none filled my heart quite the way I knew music should. It must have showed on my face for at the ending of every song my father would turn sad eyes on me. "You may go now," his only parting words. Only once did I dare linger. "You remind me of your mother," he whispered that night. We never spoke of it again.

I sing now a tune my father once loved. The haunting medley drifts on the wind as I lean out my window. I hear its echoes bounce off the surrounding trees and drift back to me. It sounds as though the forest is joining in my song. It delights me and I am about to try the effect on a new song when I hear the melody that just left my lips ring back at me in a clear and chilling voice. There is only one that voice can belong to.

"Aonori," she stops echoing my song to call to me. "Aonori, let down your hair." The sun has set in the distance, and the first stars are beginning to shine, but it is not yet dark. It is the earliest she has ever come to me.

I throw out my braid and she climbs gingerly up, landing in a heap after throwing herself over the windowsill. "It has been long since I have heard that song sung," she says, and I cannot tell if it pleases or saddens her.

"Do you like it?" I tentatively ask. She is already busily hanging the dried seaweed and fish she has brought to me. Her back is against me and all I see is her skin, pale as moonlight, against her midnight dress.

Just when I give up on her even acknowledging that I asked a question, she turns and gives a soft smile. "It was my favorite," she whispers. Something in her voice seems to settle the issue and though I feel questions surging within me, I know there is nothing more to say.

She turns back to her work and I lean out the window again. The stars shine brighter in the quickly diminishing daylight. She begins to converse with me as she always does. Lightly she speaks of her starfish garden, and the clownfish that nibbles at her fingers before quickly hiding in her anemone patch. I laugh the most delightedly when she speaks of the dolphins that come to visit. One particular one is but a playful baby that enjoys creating a ruckus in her garden. Urchin, she calls him fondly and tells me the story of his nameright. It isn't grand or elaborate, simply that the first thing he ever played with in her garden was an urchin, carrying it to her in his mouth as though bringing a gift. "Stealing from me to bring me a gift," she laughs. I think of my own gift and wonder if Aonori was meant to be so mocking after all.

The night is getting late when I raise the courage to question her once more. "You came early tonight," I blurt out. She only looks at me. "The sun had barely set." I am anxious for an answer, though I am unsure precisely what it is I question. "It was still light out," I insist again.

"The sun had set," she states and smiles that same sweet smile that seems to settle everything. "I missed you," she answers simply. And with those parting words she disappears down my long braid once again.

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What did you think? How did you like the witch? Any new theories? I'm starting to understand more clearly where I am going with this, but I'm still interested to hear what other people think.


	3. Chapter 3

Sorry for the long wait. This semester was really tough so I didn't write much. But now it's over so I had a chance to update!

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I sing now, more than ever before. Though I sing many tunes, the favorite song of the sea witch is ever on the tip of my tongue. Something about it holds more mystery to me than any other song I know. I sing it to the stone walls that surround me, but it bounces lifelessly back, and the room only feels more hollow. So I go to my window, and I sing the song to the myriad of trees. They sway in rhythm to the tune, rustling the rhythm in their leaves. But the rustling sounds too similar to the whir of the water and the swaying of the trees too close to the response of the waves, and I am brought back to the last night I sang it to my father. The night I lingered in his presence.

In an effort to dispel my swirling thoughts, I search for a new song. I long again to sing a song of the forest, of the trees, my only companions now, who ever dance below me. I listen to the sounds of the forest for the cadence. I have never listened this closely before. The leaves stir in the breeze. The trunks creak and groan, the sound of old joints still swaying to and fro. The squirrels chatter, and the birds chirp, young voices flitting and scurrying between the steps of the ancient dance. It stirs my heart, and I sing. But for the first time I do not feel as though I am making a song to echo what I hear or what I know. Instead my voice is joining a song that has gone on for ages before me and will go on for ages when I am gone.

And that is when I hear it. "Aonori, Aonori, let down your hair." I stutter and halt in confusion. It is broad daylight. I have never been called to in the light of day. In a slight daze of confusion I let down my long braid.

It is only after I see him that I remember the voice sounded differently than hers, deeper and stronger. As he leaps over my window sill, I can only stand and stare in astonishment. He drops to one knee in a flourish. "I apologize milady, for my unusual entrance. But your tower seems to lack a proper door," he says with smile.

I have never seen anything like him. Besides the fact that I have never seen a human man before, his brown eyes a startling contrast to the merfolks' dazzling blue, I have never known anyone to act so lighthearted in such unusual circumstances. I am certain father would disapprove of such behavior. I don't even like to think what the sea witch would do if she knew someone besides herself had joined me in my tower. Despite the echoes of their judgment in my mind, I find myself amused by this stranger. I offer him a bemused smile.

He stands and takes a turn about the room. Within three steps he reaches the opposite wall. "A rather small space you've got here."

"Yes, I suppose it is," I answer.

He turns back to me. "My home is small as well. As was the house I grew up in. Cozy, my mother called it." He grins at the memory.

"Do you live near here?" I ask. I find any traces of uneasiness I had are quickly slipping away in his friendly conversation.

He crosses to the window and points to a small hill, covered in dark green trees. "My house is beneath the pines," he tells me.

"Pines?" I ask. I have never heard the word before.

"The trees on the hill, they are pine trees," he says, a bit awkwardly. "Don't you know your trees, Aonori?"

I shake my head. I suddenly feel very ignorant in his presence. He is a man and knows the ways of men and all that mankind knows. As a woman, perhaps I ought to know these things as well. But the days I have spent as a woman have been few and confined to solitude in this stony room.

"Well," he clears his throat awkwardly. "You see the trees right below you have leaves." I nod, knowing this, for I used to ask the sea witch about the forest. The sea witch answered my questions about the trees below me and the squirrels and birds. But I limited my questions to what I could clearly see, and the witch never elaborated on her answers. "Well, pine trees have needles instead of leaves, you see," the man continues. "And they're darker green. They never lose their needles, even in winter when all the leaves fall."

"Winter? The leaves fall?" I ask.

He turns away from the window and looks at me for a moment. "Haven't you seen it?" he asks at last.

I shake my head.

He frowns a little in confusion but asks no questions. "In winter the air becomes much colder. The sun sets earlier and rises later. The leaves change color and fall to the forest floor, and then the snow comes. Rain," he explains, anticipating my question this time, "only in solid white crystals." He turns to me and smiles. "It's beautiful. You'll love it."

His description is wonderful. The sea witch would never answer a question of mine in such a way. The way he described it makes me remember why I traded with the sea witch in the first place. Suddenly I think I could be content to ask him questions all day.

"I should be getting back," he says. "I really only had a moment to spare from work, but your voice..." I blush as his voice drifts off, but his eyes continue to stare into mine. I am uncertain if it is admiration or confusion I see in his brown gaze. He shifts his eyes out the window, "The trees'll miss me if I'm gone too long." He winks, and I laugh. He climbs out the window, hanging on to my braid that was still wrapped around the brace. "I'll come back tomorrow," he calls as he makes his way down.

"I don't even know your name," I yell after him. He's already halfway down my braid, about to disappear beneath the trees.

"Alon," he calls and waves just before he drops below the tree line.

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Well what did you think? Does the present tense still flow well? Did I maintain style even after such a long break? Opinions on Alon? Review please!

Thanks again to piratesswriter for pointing out grammar issues!


	4. Chapter 4

Long awaited, and a bit short, but here at last. Maybe now that it's summer maybe I'll update more often. Review please!

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Chapter 4

Morning dawns ever so slowly. It has been one night since Alon's visit. One sleepless night with nothing but questions for company. Alon knew the words the sea witch calls to me. Does he know more about us? He said my voice.....well, he didn't know what to say about my voice. Has he heard all my songs? Does he...enjoy them?

I try to turn my mind elsewhere. There is no breeze today. The trees are still and silent. I look out to the pine trees and find myself wondering what the trees just below me are called. I tap my foot in impatience. I have so many questions and no idea when Alon will arrive.

It is past my midday meal, though I could not eat it for anticipation, before I hear Alon calling my name. "Aonori, Aonori," he calls, "let down your hair."

When he climbs in the window he wears a sheepish grin. "Do I always have to say it like that?" he asks.

"I..." truthfully, I've never thought of it before. The sea witch always said the same phrase, but whether it was for my own recognition or part of her spell, I hadn't asked. "I think you'd better." I didn't want my hair to break with Alon halfway up the tower, all for my telling him wrong, that words didn't matter.

Alon stares at me, and I feel he is puzzling me out. Suddenly all my questions slip away, the way the birds fly off in a breeze. I duck my head and gaze out the window, uncomfortable at my sudden inability to say anything, anything at all.

"Aonori," Alon says, not as though calling me, but as if he is trying it out, as though he wants to taste it on his tongue. "It's a pretty name."

"It's not my name," I say quickly. Perhaps too quickly.

"It's not?" he asks quizzically.

"It's not," I answer, slowly this time. "But you may as well call me by it," I sigh.

Alon hesitates. "What is your real name?" he asks slowly, carefully.

"I haven't one," I say, more bitterly than I intended. "Not anymore."

Alon seems to know when to leave well enough alone and takes to drumming his fingers on the floor in a pattern that echoes one of my songs. It's a song I sang often when I first came to the tower. An upbeat wave riding tune, meant for lighthearted frolics through the frothing waves. A song I often used to use to cheer myself up. I look at Alon who seems to be drifting into the music already. Smiling a bit at the curve of his lips as he drums more intently, I join in softly with the words. His eyes lift to mine at the sound of my voice. I lift my chin and sing louder, pleased at the grin that spreads across his face.

When I finish he continues staring with his unabashed grin until I blush and look away. I turn my eyes to the trees and ask about them. What kind are they? How old are they? Who planted them? Alon answers all my questions with passion. This is his forest, I realize, and he belongs to it. The same way I once belonged to my ocean. _Once belonged. _I can almost taste the bitterness of the past tense. My questions drift into silence and Alon takes his leave. He promises to return soon. I hear his fading whistle as he returns home. I stay in my tower. In silence.


	5. Chapter 5

It's terribly short and skips fast through time, but it moves things along where I didn't know how to move them before. So, yay! If you like it please review, it helps me continue (_at all_, let alone faster). I do hope to finish this someday, really I do, and I am excited that I have maybe sort of half a plan now! So a big thank you to everyone who favorites this story or has it on alert, and especially to all reviewers. Though I can't promise speed, I WILL finish for you!

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Alon returns nearly every day. He sits on my floor and speaks of the earth; I lean against the window and sing of the sea. Three questions for every song, this is our deal. I am always the singer, for he doesn't ask any questions, though I often see the curiosity burn in his eyes. For reasons I cannot fathom, he lets his questions go. I cannot do the same with mine. Vibrantly he tells me of his home, the forest, and all that he knows. Together we watch the summer fade until the discolored leaves fall from the trees, leaving the branches to stretch to the sky, bare and exposed. I crinkle my nose and tell him autumn displeases me. He laughs and insists I wait for the first snow. "It will be worth it," he assures me, and tentatively runs his hands through my hair. It is the first time he has touched it close enough for me to feel the brush of movement against my skin.

By the time the first snow falls we hold hands regularly and he has taught me to dance. The first snow comes during the night and I awake to a world blanketed in white. It is astonishing and breathtakingly beautiful. I cannot wait for Alon to arrive. He arrives much later than normal, when the light is already beginning to fade, with the explanation that the snow gives him extra chores. "But it is worth it, for the beauty?" I phrase it as a question, though I know what he would answer without asking.

"It is," he answers without taking his eyes off me. Out of the corner of my eyes I see the snow begin to fall again outside the window as he leans in and gently kisses my lips. Out of nowhere, I feel a sharp tug on my hair that physically pulls me away from him.

"Stay away from her!" I hear her scream. My face falls and my gaze drops to the floor. _It cannot be so late_, the only thought that I can pull into words. But the sun has set behind the clouds, and the witch of the sea is climbing in my window, anger fully focused on Alon.

For all the terror I am sure must be on my face, Alon looks merely confused. "Who is this, Aonori?" he asks me.

"She is Aonori to me and no one else!" the witch hisses. That surprises me.

"Then what shall I call her?" Alon asks the simplest question, the only one we both know her answer to. Nothing,he should call me nothing because he should never speak to me again.

"My daughter," the witch replies. I gasp. In an instant, everything changes. She flings something at Alon and he screams, clutching at his eyes and then he is gone. She whips out a knife and chops at my hair. As it falls to the floor, the tower vanishes. We are standing suddenly, just the two of us, in the snow. She has a hold of my wrist and I am focusing on keeping my wobbly knees beneath me, my breathing even, and my eyes free of tears so I can see.

"Come with me," she says coarsely, and begins to drag me away.


End file.
